


ex avibus

by neonsign



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 04:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14036343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonsign/pseuds/neonsign
Summary: The crow stares, oddly still for a wild animal, and Ren can’t help but stare back. Curious, he holds out a hand, but the movement frightens the bird and it takes off.





	ex avibus

**Author's Note:**

> for some reason i feel like i should note this actually isn't how augury was done way back when? warning for historical inaccuracy

When he is ordained, Chihaya drips pomegranate juice under Ren’s eye and smears it across the bridge of his nose, twisting her tongue around an ancient language. The prayer asks that Ren’s gaze be ever trained forward, that he find the path the gods’ will for their empire to prosper and grow. That he be strong and never waver.

“These ceremonies always run overlong,” the seamstress whispers. She leans close to tug another layer of brocade over his shoulders wearing a solemn face, and though they are surrounded on all sides, her hair curtains them off and gives him brief respite from prying eyes. “Hold fast and we may yet make it out within this century.”

The robes are heavy and reek of incense, the sun has been punishing him since he was shaken awake, but Ren tells her that it would all be worthwhile as long as he had a girl like her waiting for him at the end of a hundred years.

“Please,” she scoffs, “think of the gods.”

“Never more than I need to, Ann.”

The juice runs down his cheek and Ren sticks out his tongue to lick it up. Chihaya closes her eyes and utters instead a prayer for patience.

 

* * *

 

The temple is an elaborate building of gold and mahogany that sits on the side of a mountain, above the empire’s plateau and beneath only the palace, the peak, and the heavens. Ren leans against the windowsill and finds he can’t help but praise the clergy’s clever thinking: “Think of all the omens I’ll see from here.”

His mother picks up a piece from the game board with a newly manicured hand.

“You jest, but this is only right. The gods chose you.”

“And we’re so close to the heavens now that I could kiss their cheeks in thanks.”

The piece is placed against the board with a clack that resounds around the room and Ren’s father grunts in irritation. Whatever else has changed, he still can’t win against her; a board made of pink ivory and marble plays the same as one of oak and iron.

“The gods’ favoured son living in poverty would be its own kind of blasphemy.”

The scent of bath oil wafts through the air and when Ren rubs the back of his neck, it’s as soft as the flower petals used to make it. In his other hand is the last charm he carved before the priests came to collect him, and the bone and wood clack together as he fidgets.

“Last I checked,” he says, “I was your son, not theirs.”

 

* * *

 

Dry lightning means Ren’s last prayer was rejected, news that his bodyguard receives with silence.

“If you’re lucky,” he tells her, “perhaps I’ll be eaten by a bear.”

Her hair, eyes, the blade at her hip — she is severe.

“You can’t divine your way out of its jaws?”

Her words, as well.

“Makoto,” Ren laughs, “and miss the opportunity to bring a smile to your miserable face?”

Niijima sucks her teeth and turns on her heel, her attention falling to the empire below where she would much rather be. The common folk need protection more than some witch who spends his days wandering the forests counting piles of deer shit.

Her words.

Mammals only give auspice on a personal level. Deer and wolves alike live by their own nature and have no interest in the world of gods and men. Crossing paths with a fox or a cat might mean good luck for you, but in the grand scheme of things it means nothing. Birds are the true messengers.

Ren looks to the sky and sees no pattern, no auspice.

He asks, “Why don’t you quit?”

And she tells him to mind his own business.

 

* * *

 

When Ryuji brings up more supplies from the town below, he stays a while so that they can talk as only old friends can. He says that Ren’s parents are looking healthier, that this lifestyle suits them, and Ren can only pray for silence. With his relationship with the gods being the way it is, and Ryuji being the way he is, it goes unanswered to no surprise.

Ren lowers his eyes and toys with his fur blanket.

“How lucky we are.” He asks, “How is Ann?”

“She misses you. Everyone does.”

Fur worth more than the house he used to call home and Ren resists the urge to tear it to shreds. _And I them_ , he wants to admit, but Ryuji jumps to his feet saying he’s got a long trek home, and the words never leave his mind.

 

* * *

 

Before he was an augur, Ren was a thief, and without a deceptive bone in her body, Niijima doesn’t watch the shadows. The only time she notices that Ren sneaks out is when it’s far too late; by that point she’s only able to welcome him home with a glare and a sneer about how no, she didn’t go looking for him because as far as she’s concerned, that bear can’t come fast enough.

“Getting mauled will be the least of your problems should you keep pushing her.”

Futaba grinds three leaves of aconite in a mortar while Ren nearly falls asleep on a pile of pillows in the corner, spurred on by the scent of Sojiro cooking. Only when she  kicks his foot and reminds him that he’s supposed to be helping does he do what he’s told.

“I know her sister,” Futaba continues. “If they’re anything alike, then stop picking fights; I’d rather not have either on my doorstep. And I imagine you don’t want it known that you dabble in witchcraft.”

“It’s fine. Niijima loves the law, but only so long as it does as it’s supposed to. I imagine even she could see the value in bypassing the gods and seeing the world in your own truths.”

Futaba smirks a the flattery, smug as ever, but it vanishes as quickly as it comes.

“And speaking of…” She takes a deep, slow breath, looking for all the world like she has the weight of it on her shoulders. “Ren, I’ve looked again and again, and… you see it too, don’t you?”

Ren lowers his eyes and stays silent.

"Something bad is coming.”

 

* * *

 

If the temple is isolated then Sojiro’s cabin is on another plane of existence altogether. Even without Futaba’s spells of protection, it sits in such a remote area of the woods that Ren has to carve markers into trees so that he doesn’t get lost every time. To sneak out from under Niijima’s watchful eye only to wind up dead in a crevice is a legacy he would rather not leave.

It’s during this journey that a crow calls.

Were it a songbird, Ren would have ignored it altogether, but be it magic or augury, crows are messengers — so he waits. The direction it came from is everything, but when the forest is this quiet sounds come from all directions.

Wings flap and a branch bounces with a small weight. The crow watches Ren out of one eye and it calls again.

“The left,” Ren murmurs. Favourable.

Stuck somewhere between the cabin and the temple, he finds himself unable to move.

 

* * *

 

“Amamiya.”

Ren has no choice but to face the emperor when his sharp voice scares off the songbird on the sill. The man is upset, as men who receive bad news often are, while in contrast his daughter is staring out the window. She was watching the bird as well.

“I need not remind you that misinterpretation is the highest blasphemy an augur can—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Ren snaps.

It’s then that Chihaya takes over. With a shaking voice, she bows her head to assure no offense. Ren averts his eyes rather than watch her lower herself.

The omens are marks of favour. If the gods didn’t love then they wouldn’t communicate, and if they had no trust in Ren then they wouldn’t have chosen him. He is obligated to act as their medium. It is an honor.

“I know of your past, Amamiya,” the emperor says, “and I know the whispers that you involve yourself with heretics. Why the gods chose an unbeliever is far beyond me, but you would do well not to squander their faith in you.”

“I am far from unbelieving, your _highness_. But I know all too well the effects power has, and the gods are the most powerful of all. Above only you, isn’t that right?”

With a final bow, Ren gets to his feet and leaves, letting Okumura’s words echo after him.

 

* * *

 

The rabble of the poorest district leaks through Chihaya’s thin walls as she pours tea. Ren soaks up every note.

This room is supposed to be an insult, along with apprenticing the boy that replaced her — but in the temple there is so little noise that it’s easy to forgot what it’s like to be surrounded by people, by life, and though there is beauty to be found in the mountains, Ren knows which he prefers.

Chihaya smiles at him but the teapot hits the table with a heavy thunk.

“I’m not wrong,” Ren insists. “The gods are lying.”

“Ren—”

“The signs are as the gods want them to be. If there was—”

“Ren,” Chihaya smiles, “don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

The tea warms his palms to the point of stinging but he keeps the cup cradled between his hands, watching the sunlight glisten on her blonde hair. All Chihaya sees is her apprentice becoming the same doomsayer she was excommunicated for being. She’s as honest as can be and doesn’t know the way a liar’s mind works. She won’t listen.

As soon as he realizes this, Ren says something about the long hike back to the temple and uses the excuse to leave. Then all he has to deal with is Niijima, but she’s easy enough to lose among the crowd.

Alone, Ren strolls the marketplace. And it’s then that a crow calls again.

“From the right,” he says as soon as he finds it sitting on a high wall. “Is this a change of heart? Or something else?”

The crow stares, oddly still for a wild animal, and Ren can’t help but stare back. Curious, he holds out a hand, but the movement frightens the bird and it takes off.

“Of course,” Ren mutters, and when he hears Niijima angrily call his name, “of _course_.”

 

* * *

 

On a day of torrential rain, the priests start scrambling. The word is that someone showed up on their doorstep, soaked to the bone and barely conscious, and when Ren stands with a couple curious acolytes at the door to his room, it’s to find the stranger wan but sleeping soundly.

“He was dressed like a prince,” one whispers, gesturing to a white suit drying by the fire.

Strands of wet hair stick to the stranger’s skin, snaking like veins, and Ren’s eyes follow the lines to his lips.

“He does look like one.”

They don’t meet until the next morning when Ren is tending to the flowers in the garden, making sure nothing was damaged by the storm. All the sun can manage is watery light that casts no shadows, so the only sign that someone is behind him is footsteps and the rustle of material.

The stranger smiles down at him, wearing clothes borrowed from the temple. He remains deathly pale, drained even more by the grey light, but he smiles and introduces himself as Akechi.

“They tell me you’re an augur,” he says, “and that it’s a highly esteemed position. I must admit, I’m unsure of the proper etiquette. Do I bow?”

Ren holds out his dirty hand.

“Just help me up.”

Akechi doesn’t hesitate to, and his skin is smeared with filth.

 

* * *

 

Amnesia, the high priest says. Akechi doesn’t remember anything, not about who he was before he collapsed or why he was wandering the mountain in the first place. Yet no matter how the acolytes fawn over him, Akechi bows his head in apology and insists once he’s back on his feet, he’ll stop abusing their hospitality.

“Whatever brought me here must be important,” he says without a trace of humility. “I will continue what I started… as soon as I find out what it is.”

Ren scatters feed among the chickens. They are gluttonous, so eager that feed falls from their beaks and back to the earth. Another favourable sign.

Whatever the pitiable circumstances of his arrival, and no matter how he claims to be a burden, Akechi has shown himself to be a great help. When an acolyte tore her robe while playing with the others, Akechi was ready with needle and thread, and he can often be found in the kitchen before meal time. The food has not only increased in quality since he showed up, but presentation as well, which he insists is half the fun of food.

The younger priests fawn over what a lovely young man he is while the older joke that his presence is surely another favourable omen. He is helpful, he is kind, he is polite.

There is no reason for Ren to be this annoyed by him.

“And you, Amamiya?”

“What about me?”

Akechi laughs quietly, “Please,” and takes a step closer. “Augur, thief… and a witch when the mood strikes you — or so the rumors go. Heavy burdens one and all. I must admit some curiosity as to where they take you. And whether you’ll see it through.”

Dusting his hands free of the last of the feed, Ren pulls his shoulders back and meets Akechi’s gaze. The white clothes reflect the sun and he’s almost blinding, yet his eyes are the warmest brown, bordering on red — on cleansing fire.

“I always do.”


End file.
